Enemies Within
by Plurimisverbis
Summary: Tony & Ziva angst about what Eli said to Ziva and some resolution of TIVA - rated M for language & sex  A/N: I Don't own anything I'm not supposed to - please don't sue me.  The rest came out of my head.
1. If Only She'd Call

**A/N: This was difficult to read so I've edited it - hope that helps.**

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* * *

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In The Wee Small Hours - Mann/Hilliard

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson  
You'd be hers if only she would call  
In the wee small hours of the morning  
That's the time you miss her most of all

* * *

Tony threw his cell onto the table; straight to voice-mail again. Over three hours since he'd left work and he'd lost track of how many times he'd tried to call her. He looked at his watch – 11.17 p.m. Late, even later by the time he got to her place. He just wanted to check on her. From the time he'd rescued her, he had to know she was OK. Actually, this need had started long before Somalia. Only he hadn't acknowledged it until he believed he'd lost her. The past few days had come at a price. Not content with the distress caused simply by his presence, Eli David insisted on bringing trouble too. She held it together, as ever, did her job and then some. No-one would know there was anything amiss – except Tony. He could tell by her eyes, by the way she spoke, by the way she moved. And by the way she was avoiding him.

It wasn't too late to go over – not when he was worried. He hadn't been inside her new apartment. The last time he'd been inside her old apartment was the night he shot Rivkin. And Ziva didn't visit his apartment. Neither of them ever said anything – an unspoken agreement. Movie nights were at the office. At weekends, they'd very occasionally meet for lunch, drinks, whatever; always on neutral territory. In a weird way it worked. It was all because of 'that moment'. At some point, during these non-date dates, the mood would shift. The atmosphere would charge. They'd hesitate. Each watching, waiting for the other to act or speak; until it became too awkward and too intense. Then he'd joke or she'd deflect and 'that moment' would pass.

Nothing had happened in Paris; nothing more than sharing a bed. However, 'that moment' had seemed to last an entire trip. The night had been hell; relieved by a timely 'phone call from McGee and the sudden desire to take a walk – alone. She was asleep by the time he returned; saved by jetlag. He often wondered what would happen if he didn't back off, or let her run, from such moments. Not so much wonder about the sex. Though, in all honesty, the idea of fucking Ziva was a dead-cert in terms of distraction value. A constant since the day she'd sauntered into the squad-room all tease and provocation. He wished he could pick up a woman, any woman, to catch a break from it. One-night-stands didn't work anymore; it was always her name he wanted to say, always her face he wanted to see. No, he wondered mostly about the other part of the equation. This insane, intangible 'thing' they had but were unable to manage or move forward; the looks, the close contact; the sense they were incomplete without each other. It was even expressed in the fights; the strength of their feelings bubbling through, coloring the disputes. The way he'd felt when he thought she was in love with Rivkin, when he'd seen her bruised and broken in Somalia. When he'd thought she was dead.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he realized her car wasn't there.

_Shit, she's not home._

Tony hadn't been expecting that. She might be out for a run but the car would be here, with Abby or other friends. Maybe over at Gibbs' - Ziva talked to him when she was troubled. All the team did, still he couldn't help the small stab of irrational jealousy. Or, and this thought made his chest constrict – maybe the guy from Miami. Perhaps she'd told him about Eli's visit and he'd come to comfort her.

_Hell, you traveled halfway round the globe just to exact a little payback for her death. Hopping the first flight to D.C. would be a no-brainer if she needed you._

He didn't want to call Abby to ask if she knew where Ziva was – she was curious enough about them. He definitely wasn't about to call Gibbs. He sat considering the options. One; wait here until she showed up or until he had to head to work, if she didn't. Two; the Navy Yard and do the McTracker cell 'phone location deal. He decided on the latter.

_Maybe it was bordering on bat-shit crazy obsessive_.

If he found out she was at some hotel downtown he'd go home, forget it.

_ Well, OK, go home and get loaded - which causes temporary amnesia if you do it right. _

Her car was at the Navy Yard – which was wrong. She wasn't on the graveyard shift and Gibbs would never have called her in to cover. Not after recent events. His boss was tough but there was a heart in there – something had to pump the caffeine to his brain. The light was on at her desk, her bag on top but no sign of her - Autopsy. Ducky kept a bottle of Scotch in an unlocked desk drawer. The rule was anyone could, with no questions asked, as long as it was never left empty or nearly empty. His first reaction was relief that he'd found her. It was quickly replaced by sickening alarm. She had that lost look in her eyes; the one that broke his heart every time. And because her hands were clasped around the small Israeli flag Eli had given her - and her Sig. Ziva always had a disturbingly comfortable look when handling guns. This was different.


	2. A Piece of Glass

Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses? – U2

You're dangerous, 'cause you're honest

You're dangerous you don't know what you want

You're an accident, waiting to happen

You're a piece of glass left there on the beach

* * *

Tony leant against the wall, gauging the situation, "hey, Ninja. It's late." His voice was very soft, trying to seem unfazed; arms crossed so she couldn't see how tightly his fists were balled. She looked up at him; puzzled by his appearance.

"Why are you there?" That was a good question_._

"Well, I tried calling, you didn't pick up." _True: minus the 'because I was - correction AM – fucking worried about you' part. _

Ziva frowned, "Rule #3." An oath in Hebrew followed, with a wave of the gun indicating the room, "not unreachable. I am here. Yes?" He nodded agreement.

_Jesus, she's hammered_. "So what are you doing down here?" His tone was casual; almost conversational.

She gave him a pitying look for asking the obvious, "drinking." Ziva sighed, 'thinking. Drinking and thinking." The rhyme amused her. Momentarily the faraway expression faded from her face. "I did not think I liked Scotch – now I think I do." This last said as she picked up the glass. Ziva noticed his gaze rest on the gun and flag held in her other hand. "A weapon," she announced; spilling liquor onto her shirt.

Tony swallowed hard; "only corpses and me with you, Zee-vah. Think you'll need it?" No answer. He couldn't tell if she was listening. A minute or so passed. "You could put it down until the living dead show up." Hoping his customary levity would relax her. She quickly glanced at him. Tony's suggestion made the connection that the gun was bothering him; the alcohol-induced haze obscuring the rationale.

"Dead people have no feelings. Want a drink?" a slurred invitation to move nearer. He pushed himself off the wall and slowly walked over. She watched his approach warily.

"Sure. Would you do something for me first, sweetheart?"

She tensed at the endearment; "What?" suspicion creeping into her voice.

_That's my girl – affection equals a trap._ He squatted down in front of her, ignoring the twinge of protest from his knee and keeping his hands where she could see them. _Under no fucking circumstances make her think you're gonna try and take it from her._ She was way past half-cut and Tony recognized it as darkly drunk. A place he'd visited more than once – just not whilst playing with a loaded firearm. That instinctual training of hers meant she was unpredictable in this state; the last thing needed was defense mode to activate.

"Would you give me the gun, please?" Tony tried to capture her gaze. Her fingers tightened around the grip. She screwed her eyes up as though trying to remember some thought, nagging inside her brain_. Keep her distracted until you figure this out._ "How 'bout you give me the flag?"

Ziva opened her eyes and tilted her head – "the Israeli flag." She emphasized the national identity with a flourish. "We fought in Tel Aviv, Tony."

His mind flashed back to bright sun, hard concrete, pain from his arm; Ziva shoving a gun against his chest. Yet somehow he'd known she wouldn't pull the trigger and she'd known he wouldn't hurt her. _Definitely a 'moment' - maybe it was better if they did avoid them. Their track record wasn't so good._ "Yeah, we did."

Her guard was drifting again; the effects of the liquor undermining any effort to remain alert. "Did you like it?" She was regarding him with curiosity.

A faint grin played on his face, "Tel Aviv? Yes; the fight? Not so much." _This is about Daddy. _Tony decided to try again. "Why don't you it down for a bit, Zee-vah?" She surprised him with sudden compliance, placing the gun on the desk. She kept the flag – trying to stand it in her whisky glass. Missed three times and gave up. Briefly her eyes darted back to the weapon as he straightened up. Tony deliberately paid no attention, examining the bottle instead – Ducky's rule. No way to know how much she'd consumed - clearly more than enough.

"Your turn," proffering the glass.

He smiled and shook his head, digging his car keys out of his jeans' pocket. "Someone's gotta drive."

She closed her eyes, "oh." As if going home hadn't occurred to her. And only when she opened them again did he coolly reach for the gun – his eyes never leaving hers. He checked the safety – it was on - removed the clip and put it back on the table.

She moved to finish the drink but he caught her wrist – feeling the tension – "you really don't want that. Trust me."

Her eyes widened slightly at the intervention and a strange look flickered across her face. "Trust?" the single word almost spat out with bitterness.

_Oh Christ._


	3. Something Is Broken

X&Y - Coldplay

I know something is broken  
And I'm trying to fix it  
Trying to repair it  
Any way I can

* * *

She was unsteady when she stood but they made it to the elevator. The whole way up, she was getting paler, swallowing frequently - a fixed stare on her face.

As the doors opened "I'll meet you at the bathroom," was all he said and she bolted – hand over her mouth. Vomiting is something best done alone; unless it's absolutely necessary to have someone with you. Tony went to his desk to put her gun and clip away – pausing as he tried to remember how many more she had and where. Then he collected a toothbrush and toothpaste from her drawer. He waited outside until he could hear the sound of taps running. Ziva was splashing water on her face – he silently handed her paper towels and then the toothbrush & paste. Once she'd finished, she leaned on the counter. Tony reached out to touch her. She caught a glimpse of the movement in the mirror and twisted round - not entirely balanced but swift enough to block his arm. She was ready to strike.

_Right; we're at that stage. _He stepped back, "sorry" holding his hands up.

She shivered as they walked toward the entrance of the smart 24 hr. diner. Tony peeled off his OSU sweatshirt, handing it to her.

"Thank you. I left my jacket in…. somewhere." Ziva was no longer blind drunk; assisted by the cool air and emptying of her system. Tony had made her drink a bottle of water on the drive over. She wasn't sober, either and definitely a little embarrassed. They slid into a booth.

"Did you eat at all tonight?" Ziva shook her head. _Well that explains part of it. _He offered her a menu. "So what's it gonna be; pancakes, waffles?" thoroughly enjoying the teasing as she grimaced.

"No. Not hungry;" pushing the menu away.

Tony grinned, "eggs-over-easy?" Seeing her shake her head and regret the motion again, he continued "self-inflicted. My sympathy is limited. And you will eat something." He was curious to see if she'd defy the command. Their waitress arrived. Ziva didn't look up but muttered "Hot tea and toast, please."

_DiNozzo 2, David 0. _The girl started to launch into the wide variety of breads and Ziva did look up – irritation brewing. Tony intervened. "Just tea, whole wheat toast, she's not feeling so good…" he added conspiratorially. "If we could keep her order coming until I say stop..." He noted her name badge. "….Kimberley, that would be great. And I'll take Caffè macchiato. Thanks." Turning on the charm and that dazzling smile; Kimberley didn't stand a chance.

She was half way through her second round of toast and tea before saying anything. Tony studied her; she resembled a waif, swamped by his sweatshirt, pale – her eyes edgily flitting around; "my gun?" He shot her a patient look.

_Yeah, she would think that's the priority right now._ "In my desk; you'll just have to kill any attackers the old-fashioned way 'til tomorrow."

It wasn't meant mockingly but Ziva was nettled anyway. "Worried I might shoot you, Tony?" a hint of scorn.

_A touchy waif with attitude; _he shrugged, "No, not me….Necessarily." She absorbed his implication.

"Me?" Now creating the impression his conclusion was ridiculous.

"Feeling better?"

She nodded, obviously self-conscious. "It was not how it appeared."

He leaned back in his seat. "Seriously?" deliberate skepticism, delivered with an easy grin to underline his disbelief.

She sighed, toying with her toast. "You are thinking…."

_She'll avoid this all night_. He interrupted her with the same relaxed, needling tone. "You don't know what I'm thinking. 'Cause, you know, based on what I saw back there, fuck logic." There was an expectant determination beneath his next statement "You do owe me an explanation, though." Tony cocked his head. "Well?" He challenged her; aware she was calculating a route out of the conversation.

Ziva's temper started to rise. She made another attempt at focusing her sluggish mind – seeking to end any discussion before it began. "I told you. I was thinking." Her voice was flat but her expression was mutinous.

"That's it?" He rolled his eyes. "For Christ's sake, Zee-vah, I found you totally wasted - with a gun." stressing the last three words. No grin to soften the sting this time. Frustration making his voice harsher and angrier than he'd intended. "Exactly what the fuck were you thinking about?" _You just kick started the countdown to DEFCON 1. _Kimberley popped up beside Tony, overheard and retreated.


	4. You Don't Have To Be Alone

A Message - Coldplay

My song is love, my song is love, unknown  
And I'm on fire for you, clearly  
You don't have to be alone  
You don't have to be on your own

* * *

Only Ziva didn't go ballistic. She frowned and pressed her hands to her temples, massaging them. "It is difficult to explain. You might not understand."

_Please, for once, please just fucking try me. _He leaned forward, removed her hands from her face, lightly tapping her forehead. "Hey, what was going on in here?" a much softer request. "I was a cop long enough to know Happy Hour with a live ammo kicker can end up all kinds of ugly. Unintentionally …." He paused. _Might as well say it _"….or otherwise."

Ziva looked directly at him. "I was not thinking of harming myself, if that is the cause of your concern." He raised an eyebrow at the slightly dismissive reply – non-verbal communication the only type they were good at - waiting to see if she'd continue. "I wanted quiet so I went to Autopsy and took the flag with me because Eli…." Tony wondered if the halting statement was the whisky or an evasion tactic. "Not intending to stay so long, or to drink so much." She searched for the right words. "Eli made me into a weapon, like a…like a gun. His weapon: for country, for his duty – whatever the cost…."

_Sort of explains the flag and gun thing – doesn't make it any less scary._

_ "_Eli said he worried about losing something important – the cost of duty…a piece of himself."

_Jesus he's an egocentric bastard._

She read the expression of contempt on his face and gave a small shrug, "I was thinking that weapons do not feel…." Ziva's eyes had slipped from his, "And I….I do not know what I am supposed to feel about Eli….about his words."

Tony shook his head. "You're not supposed to feel anything…"

Sudden emotion flashed in her eyes as she retorted sharply. "I am not supposed to feel? I am a ruthless killer; cold, untouchable…."

Tony was caught completely off guard. _Oh God, you forgot she has the temperament and predictability of a lightning strike._ "NO. Stop." the forceful denial prompted by a measure of panic that he'd wrecked the opportunity. "That's not what I meant." She checked her outburst, startled by his reaction. "I meant there's no 'supposed to' about it, Zee-vah. You just feel." He didn't want her to seize his mistake; use it to pick a fight and escape the subject. "Whatever you feel; it is what it is."

She started fiddling with the tea cup, regaining her composure; carefully asking "do you understand?"

Tony scrutinized her. "A little" his grin was cautious. "Probably make more sense to me if I'd shared the half bottle of Glenfiddich." _Buying - up to a point. Not the whole story. _She was still pre-occupied and worse, that haunted shadow was in her eyes again. "So why don't you trust me?" He nudged further - torn; unwilling to risk the progress, yet not satisfied with her answer.

"I do." Ziva's reply was immediate; her confusion utterly genuine.

"Then wh…?"

It was her turn to interrupt as realization hit. "I was not referring to you, Tony." She reached across the table and caught hold of his hand. "Why did you ask Eli if he was interrogating you as my father or as Director David?"

_Second time that trip's come up tonight._ Tony shrugged carelessly, "does it matter?" Ziva's glance was full of reproach. In reality, he was no better at this kind of conversation than she was. His default setting: to answer a difficult question with a question. "To piss him off, I guess." He concentrated on stirring sugar into his coffee. The reasons were complicated. He was very reluctant to mention Rivkin. "Trying to figure out if he just didn't like me or, if he didn't like me because…." Tony swallowed, uncertain suddenly - uncomfortable with analyzing his motivations "…. because of you. You and….If his problem was….something else." _Coward; you were gonna say 'us'._

She was playing with his fingers, not looking at him. "It was as Director David." Kimberley delivered more toast. And Tony indicated his campaign to get Ziva to eat was finsihed; she was more coherent and a much better color. "Eli was not concerned as my father. His duty, his office means he cannot allow emotion to rule him." Her voice was very quiet; as though reasoning with herself. "If I understood his burden, his losses, Ari and Tali…" She was so stiff, fighting some inner battle. Tony's brow wrinkled with concern. Ziva stopped, not saying anything for a little while.

"C'mon, Zee-vah," he encouraged gently, noticing a tear splash onto the table. She chewed her lip, "….If only I realized what it has cost him then I would not be angry. Eli told me it was like the time he refused me a pony - a tantrum. I am alive. I should not judge him; should not be angry about what he had to do …." Ziva retrieved her hand to wipe her face on her sleeve, more distant now - recalling memories from another time. "About….what happened to me." She kept looking at the table, avoiding Tony's eyes. 

_That's the missing bit. _He remained silent for a minute; cooling his temper. "He's wrong. He's not you." _He's a fucking manipulative sociopath. _"And it didn't happen to him."

Ziva exhaled slowly, "Earlier, when I was….thinking, perhaps Eli is…."

Tony leaned forward and tipped her chin up, "Sweetheart, look at me: He. Wasn't. There." Her tension was easing. He wiped another tear from her cheek, a wicked grin forming, "although, personally speaking, I'd be more than willing to arrange the full-immersion, authentic Somali terrorist camp experience for him." That provoked a sweet smile: the storm lifting from her eyes. "Just, you know, so he feels qualified to judge."


	5. It Matters To Me

So Cruel - U2

We crossed the line  
Who pushed who over  
It doesn't matter to you  
It matters to me

* * *

She looked exhausted, likely hatching the mother-of-all-hangovers. His buzz from coffee had long worn off. "Let's get you home." Tony pulled out his wallet.

Ziva watched him, suddenly making the observation, "your place is nearest." It was true. Her apartment meant it would be after three by the time he returned home. 

_Oh God, Paris all over again._ Tony gave her a quizzical look. Her mood was unreadable. "OK." He hoped she'd fallen asleep in the car – curled in the passenger seat, not saying anything. Carrying her would be easy and would mean no temptation. She hadn't. He prowled around his apartment, struggling to relax – this was worse than Paris. This time Ziva was in his bed. After a short while, he decided on a drink - to take the edge off. He downed the large shot in one go and turned round. Ziva was right behind him. _Ninja stealth skills back online. _She was wearing her tank, which barely reached below the top of her thighs - and nothing else. That broke him out in a cold sweat, made his heart rate pick up. "Hair of the same dog that bit you," he was flippant; fervently hoping she'd move out of his space.

"Are you coming to bed?" 

_Oh yeah, now she chooses to be direct._

Ziva was strangely intense; surveying him with that watchful gaze. Tony swallowed, his mouth suddenly going dry. She stood on tiptoe, "thank you for tonight," gently kissing him. He expected the kiss on his cheek instead she brushed his lips with hers, lingering.

Instant, impulsive reaction kicked in – truth was, it was never going to take much to break his restraint. He caught hold of her head, increasing the pressure until her mouth opened; his fingers tangling in her hair as he explored the softness. Vaguely in the back of his mind, an alarm was sounding. One of her hands wound around his neck, the other clasped at his shirt. He was kissing her as though he had all the time in the world – long, controlled, hot kisses. His spare hand was running all over her body.

_Don't take this any further. _Despite having initiated the contact, Ziva was surprised by his swift action and at how aroused Tony could make her - just by kissing her, touching her. She stopped thinking; adrift in nerve-tingling pleasure. Automatically, he backed her against the kitchen table, not breaking the kiss. She perched up on it, his free hand coming to rest on her leg, feeling the silky smooth skin. Unable to resist, Tony began tracing a provocative line along the inside of her thigh. 

_This could be the stupidest thing you ever did. _His hand hovered between her legs and Ziva adjusted her position; an invitation to continue. Then he felt her twitch as he found her clit - watching the expressions on her face as her body responded. He so wanted to make her unravel. Ziva was aware only of an overwhelming desire for more; she unbuttoned his jeans, tugging them down. His mood switched to insistent; stroking, tantalizing. She bunched and twisted his shirt, making soft gasps against him. 

_Oh Christ she's so wet._ He slipped fingers inside, causing her to eyes to fly open and mutter words he dimly recognized as cursing – in some language. Tony relentlessly teased and caressed; sensing her build. She dug fingernails into the back of his neck and bit his shoulder. At the same time the warning in his head grew louder. Her back started to arch, muscles tightening; she was close. Only Ziva pushed his hand away, wrapping her legs and arms more tightly around him. She angled her hips; pressing herself against his erection, sliding along his cock with a slight rocking motion. "Jeees-uus…" The sensation shredded his control, "….Zee-vah" saying her name as a low, constricted breath. He lost the ability to focus beyond needing to be inside her. "Please…. Tony, now..." her ragged plea into his ear snapping Tony into the conscious realization he was about to take her – there and then - on his kitchen table. He pulled back. If he didn't stop now, he wouldn't be able to and something wasn't right.


	6. What If You Should Decide

What If? - Coldplay

What if you should decide  
That you don't want me there by your side?  
That you don't want me there in your life?

* * *

"Let's not do this." His heart was hammering in his chest. _No, that's the stupidest thing you ever did. She's gonna hate you. You're gonna hate you._ He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed – trying to master his senses, slow his breathing.

"Why?" shock and an excruciatingly near-miss orgasm mixing into Ziva's gasped question.

Tony took a deep breath, "because a comfort fuck is never a good idea, Zee-vah." She had been taught to exploit sex as part of her formidable skill set and she'd been vulnerable tonight. That's what was wrong – why he had stopped. Seduction was her attempt to deal with letting him get so close. Only she underestimated the strength of their reactions to each other.

"You don't want to?"

Tony opened his eyes, incredulous she'd even asked. "What do you think?" He was relieved to see her smile despite obvious confusion. He started pacing around the kitchen, unsettled - still processing, "not like this….not first time." As the question formed on her lips, he muttered "….'cause you're drunk and stressed. "It's that time of night when tired people do stuff they regret." Tony gave an unsteady grin, rubbing his shoulder where her teeth had connected. "It'd be a mistake. A mind-blowingly fantastic mistake and I want…." Ziva noticed the muscle twitch in his jaw. The turmoil darkened his eyes as he wrestled insecurities. "I want…." _Christ, you might as well just stop right there, because 'I want' pretty much says it all._ He banged the bottom of his fist against a cupboard in frustration.

Ziva pushed off the table and walked over to him; reaching out an arm to still his restless motion. "Tell me." She murmured soothingly, "you can tell me what you want."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. "I don't want a mistake." He swallowed, flexing his fingers to stop his hands from shaking, "I want to try and figure out a way for this to work….." He cautiously met her eyes, "I want you. All of you."

She took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. His almost desperate, searching gaze causing her breath to catch; "You do have me, Tony." Ziva's voice was comforting and absolute. "You have always had all of me."

His suspicion that Ziva had been seeking reassurance and to reassert control through sex was confirmed when she immediately relaxed against him, in the bed - drowsily asking, "Did you speak to him?"

_Seriously: Eli again._ Tony rolled onto his back; she may have wound down but he really wished she'd stop wriggling. "No. Opportunity never came up. Probably better that way."

Curiosity won the fight with fatigue. "Why?"

Tony tightened his arm around her – partly to stop her fidgeting. "'Cause I learnt how to say, 'go fuck yourself' in Hebrew – on the off-chance." She laughed, finding his permanent state of antagonism toward her father endearing. "Zee-vah, quit squirming or I will take the couch."

Ziva yawned, finally comfortable, teasing; "you have always told me that is your knee, Tony."

If they were lucky they might get two hours sleep, "I lied." This time her laugh was low and suggestive and, fortunately, only barely awake.

The spell was nearly broken by daylight. The chemistry magnified by waking up entangled in each other - closer than Tony had believed physically possible for two people not actually having sex. Spooked by the night before, they reverted to friction; squabbling for the entire commute.

"Tony, we should arrive separately." The latest dispute breaking out in the elevator – nerves fraying as the reality of facing Gibbs became imminent.

"That'd make sense if we were on time. Gibbs and co-incidences, remember?"

Ziva stubbornly argued her corner. "It will draw less attention if we are not together."

Tony shook his head. "No, think about it. That's more suspicious."

She refused to surrender. He was right and she knew it. Last night she had allowed him behind her defenses which rattled her. That and the fact she was so turned on by mere sense memory. "Arriving together implies we were together."

_No shit. What's to imply? We were. _Tony was exasperated. He knew what lay behind her mood. They had crossed a threshold and he was dealing with his own acute level of freaked out. "Maybe if we weren't late but, hey, guess what? WE ARE." Sarcasm edged his voice.

Ziva's worse-for-wear fuse ignited, her eyes flashed. "That is not my fault." and she moved toward him.

For a moment his mind filled with images. Of her curled soft and fluid, in his arms; her standing in his kitchen practically naked. Desperate to fend off the mental assault, he snapped back. "Goddamn it, Zee-vah, I didn't say it was." Defiance was written in her expression, provoking Tony into annoyance. "Look, we just walk in. It was no big deal, so fuck it." The minute the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Her anger was replaced by hurt and confusion. Ziva took a step back. _Oh come on, you didn't really just say that. _At times like this, if he hadn't seen her in action, he would never believe her to be the deadly effective, lethally rational force she undoubtedly was. Tony flipped the emergency stop on the elevator and turned round to face her. "That came out wrong." This time he closed the space between them, his voice reassuring. "I'm sorry, Zee-vah. I meant from Gibbs'..." Tony made a helpless, charming appeal "Can't we, please, talk about this when I've had more sleep?" Leaning forward, he grinned "I promise we will definitely be guilty, just not this morning. OK?"

Ziva swayed closer, the confined space charging with a different kind of tension. "Anthony D. DiNozzo, Jr. promises?" A mischievous, questioning smile on her face; he was, after all, notoriously commitment-averse.

"Yes."

She re-started the elevator. He rolled his head around his shoulders. _Today is gonna be a god-awful long day_.


	7. The Mysterious Distance

A Man and A Women - U2

And you're the one, there's no-one else  
You make me want to lose myself  
In the mysterious distance  
Between a man and a woman

* * *

It was the morning Gibbs had spent five years attempting to prevent. The morning Tony and Ziva stepped out of the elevator together; late, looking like neither of them had slept sufficiently. He had noticed her car unmoved from the previous day; the fact Ziva's attire was the same as yesterday with the exception of the shirt – casual, white and obviously belonging to a man. Couldn't fail to notice nail marks on the back of Tony's neck as he administered the first head slap of the day. And that the usual dynamic between them had altered somehow – though it was no more tranquil. Gibbs didn't say a word.

McGee was convincing in his oblivious manner as he greeted them. Despite already mentally creating an excuse to visit Abby - she was going to love this. "Ziva, some guy's been calling you, a Herr Brandt from Interpol? Ziva frowned, collecting the bag on her desk, which contained a change of clothes. "You were supposed to…." One look at Ziva's face made McGee re-think his words, "… he was expecting a call at 07.00 this morning? He's called back three times." She headed for the bathroom, snatching the piece of paper from McGee's hand.

Tony concentrated on avoiding eye contact with Gibbs who seemed extremely pissed. _Maybe you should've got laid last night – being bawled out for an assumption sucks. _Ziva returned and picked up her 'phone.

"DiNozzo?" it was a one word growl which combined inquiry with reprimand.

Tony glanced up to see Gibbs standing in front of his desk – on his way to MTAC. "It's been a rough couple of days, Boss." Gibbs raised an eyebrow, pinning Tony with a piercing look. Tony did his best to appear innocent and withstand the famous stare; "enemies within." Something in his senior agent's expression made Gibbs change his mind about the lecture.

Ziva's voice floated from behind – increasingly impatient. "….Sei nicht dumm, Richart. Er war in Miami vor vier Tagen…."

Gibbs nodded, understanding Tony's comment, "she OK?"

Tony shrugged, "she's Zee-vah, Boss."

As if to prove his point, Ziva slammed her 'phone down after one last furious phrase; "….Verpiss dich."

Tony put two and two together and came up with the identity of 'the guy from Miami'. _That wasn't, I love you or I miss you; or even, have a nice day. _A delighted grin spread across his face – today had suddenly improved. He looked across the bull-pen at Ziva and their eyes locked. For a few seconds, they were connected in a private world.

As he went up the stairs, Gibbs observed the intensity of the look exchanged; noted Tony's grin and that Ziva had changed her clothes – except for Tony's shirt. He shook his head with a half smile, briefly wondering if he and Jenny had been so unsubtle. Trying to keep Tony and Ziva apart had been a losing battle from day one. Gibbs decided to stop trying – he just wouldn't let them know that.


End file.
